Page 44

Rebecca

R ebecca took a small sip of her soda, something that didn’t go very well with the pasta her husband was making for their anniversary dinner she was watching him prepare in the sleek kitchen of their Portland home.

Mitch was the head of security for all of the Stark Hotels.

Rebecca worked with him but set her own schedule.

She worked and traveled with him, but seven-year-old Emily, who was as bright as she was curious, was always their first concern.

Their dog, Windsor, a two-year-old black lab, waited for any fallout from the drainboard.

“Wouldn’t you like some wine?” he asked. “I opened a nice Oregon Pinot from Forget-Me-Not.”

“No, I am in the mood for ginger ale. My stomach is a little iffy.” She had a little secret.

“Are you okay?” he asked, setting down his wooden spoon, crossing to where she stood, and cradling her in his arms.

“Yes, I’m wonderful. Really, I’m fine,” she said and kissed him.

“You look wonderful, Bex. Was Emily excited to get a night off from her parents? To spend time with her favorite uncle?” Mitch asked.

“She was very excited to spend the night with Uncle Alex and Aunt Daisy now that they are back from Dubai. She loves their apartment and the view at the top of the hotel. She loves being close to her grandmother. And she loves playing with her cousins. They all spoil her. She did mention she would miss Windsor.”

“She should have taken Windsor with her. They would have played nice in Alex’s penthouse, all that beige interior with Windsor’s constantly shedding black fur...”

“I couldn’t do that to Daisy. Alex, yes. Daisy, no. She is a sweetheart. And when it is Alex and Daisy’s wedding anniversary, we get their kids for the night.”

“I can hear all the little girls screaming now,” he said and returned to his pasta sauce. “I still cannot believe the change in Alex since he became a husband and father.”

“Daisy is the one for him. He really adores her, and she knows how to keep him in line. I love seeing them so happy.”

“I think we give them a run for their money on happiness,” Mitch said, wooden spoon in hand, as he crossed to Rebecca and kissed her again.

Unlike the other kisses they’d just shared, she let this one linger, and by mutual agreement, Mitch didn’t seem to mind.

He tossed his spoon on the counter to have both hands available to wrap around his wife and thoroughly kiss her.

After almost twenty years since their very first meeting they never took for granted the ability to touch freely and did so often.

“Let’s just say we set the bar pretty high,” she said. “And I wouldn’t change it.”

“Neither would I,” Mitch said as he squeezed her one last time and went back to his pasta.

They ate at the dining room table by candlelight, holding hands on top of the table as Diana Krall played in the background.

“How do you like it?” Mitch asked, glancing down at the pasta, which she had always proclaimed to be her favorite.

“You know how I like it,” she said saucily.

“Well,” he said in his aw-shucks way he’d had since he was twenty. It still made her stomach flutter.

“You make me this pasta when you want to get laid. Here’s a little secret: You don’t need it. You are getting lucky tonight, any night you want, actually. I like making love with my sweet husband, but I like that pasta is our foreplay when you really want to make love.”

“You know me too well,” he said.

“Intimately,” she said.

“I never take this, what we have—our love, our passion—for granted.”

“Did you know that it is easier for me to count the number of nights we’ve been together and haven’t made love than the nights we have?”

“I can’t believe you counted, but I feel the challenge. Okay, in the seven years since I came back from Iraq, how many nights have we just gone to sleep and not made love, which already makes me feel sad?” he asked.

“One hundred and sixty-three out of about twenty-five hundred,” she said.

“I’d better get on that,” he said. “We can’t let it get to one hundred and sixty-four.”

“No way, darling,” she said. “But you have to admit, that is a lot of sex.”

“Is it too much?” he asked with a smile.

“No,” she said and picked up her fork.

After they had finished dinner, Mitch said, “I want to give you your anniversary present.”

He’d already given her something, which he didn’t know yet, but she was excited to see what he’d picked out.

He placed a large and what appeared to be a heavy box on the table, which landed with a thunk. It was elegantly wrapped in gold paper with a large red ribbon.

“I went traditional for eighth anniversaries, something bronze, but you can expect jewelry at Christmas because I like seeing you wear something I picked out. There is something sensual about it.”

She picked up his hand, kissed his wedding ring, and said, “I agree.”

She smiled as she unwrapped the gift. He was so good to her. And she liked wearing his jewelry. She glanced again at the platinum band on his left hand. The sight of it did things to her, good things, because it meant that he belonged to her.

Looking inside the box, she looked up and met Mitch’s eyes. He had surprised her again. It was a bronze sculpture of two people kissing. On further examination, she thought the lovers looked familiar.

“Remember when Alex took our picture at the beach the day after I returned from Iraq?”

“Yes, I love that picture…You had it commissioned? I love it!” She jumped up from her seat and ran around the table to kiss her husband. They held each other tightly and marveled at the sculpture.

“Living room?” he asked.

“Bedroom,” she corrected. “Would you like to open your gift now?”

He reached for the first button on her blouse, which he unbuttoned, then slipped his hand between her breast and bra, giving the mound a playful squeeze. “And gift-wrapped too,” he said.

She laughed, “No, I have something else.”

“But I like this gift,” he complained. She freed his hand, stepped away from him, returned to her chair, and pulled a small, wrapped package from where it had rested on one of the empty dining room chairs, where she had placed it earlier.

“Here,” she said with a broad smile. “And before you open it, I have to say thank you.”

Mitch smiled back at her questioningly with his dimples and then tore into the package. He looked down at the framed photo and then looked back at her. She had wrapped a photo from her ultrasound the day before.

“You’re pregnant?” he whispered with a large smile.

They had tried to get pregnant since he’d returned from Iraq, but it hadn’t been easy for Rebecca. She’d had two miscarriages, and there had been another ectopic scare that was unfounded, but Mitch hadn’t been sure they should keep trying. They had Emily, and she was amazing.

“Two months, and everything looks good,” she said and nodded. “The baby is where it is supposed to be. No ectopic worries.”

This time, he stood and quickly was at her side. “I love you, Bex,” he said and kissed her. They both knew the risks, but they always had hope. And like the other times she’d been pregnant, they didn’t talk too much about it to get their hopes up, but this time felt different. Good.

They held each other for a long time until she said, “I have another little surprise for you.”

“Twins?” he asked playfully.

“No, thank goodness,” she said.

“As long as we end up naked, I’m happy with any surprise you have,” he said. They were as in love as they had been when they had first laid eyes on each other almost twenty years earlier.

“We have a little game set up in the living room…a little strip Monopoly for old time’s sake.”

Mitch smiled. “Bex, you remembered.”

He’d once mentioned that was always the way he wanted to play it, years ago, but knew her relatives would freak out. It was one of his dark little fantasies that involved owed rent on Boardwalk.

“Well, thankfully, this time, we don’t have to play by anyone’s rules but our own,” she said.

They ended up on the living floor, sitting across from each other with the coffee table and the game set up between them. The dog was happily locked in the family room so they wouldn’t have to worry about being goosed by a cold nose at an inopportune time.

They had been playing a speed game; the deeds to properties were already divvied up, so they each had the same number of monopolies. This cut to the chase of buying grand hotels, and large rents were to be paid in clothing only.

Rebecca handed Mitch a shoe, one of her red silk slingbacks that matched the all-red outfit she’d worn that day to their office at the Stark Hotel.

Mitch raised an eyebrow as he tossed her shoe across the room and pointed at her. “You landed on Boardwalk, baby.”

“So?” Rebecca asked innocently.

“I have a hotel on Boardwalk, and this is strip Monopoly. One shoe isn’t going to cut it. You owe me something more. I need to see some skin. Are you going to give it to me, or am I going to have to come over there and cop a feel?”

Rebecca saw the lust in his eyes. She had it, too, more of a pulsing in her more sensitive regions. Maybe she should chum for the shark. With any luck, he’d be inside her in a matter of seconds. The thought made her breath hitch, and he noticed a little hint of dimple showing on his cheek.

“Okay, you’re right. I should give you a little more, but only if you know what to do with it.

” She unbuttoned her garnet silk blouse, exposing a black lace bra.

She pulled the cool fabric away from her matching skirt, undid the cuffs, and then tossed the blouse to him. “Is that enough, or do you want more?”

“I want more. I want you,” he said and crawled to the space next to her, their bodies close.

“That sounds like a win-win,” she said and kissed him. He gently lowered her to the hardwood floor, which was covered with an elegant oriental rug.

His head was between her breasts, and he was exploring them with his tongue. He’d always loved her breasts, and she loved what he did to them, especially now that they were a bit tender.

A moment later, the bra was gone and flung across the room, and he was sucking on first her right nipple and then her left. He murmured, “Your breasts are larger. How did I not notice that earlier?”

“You know, when I’m pregnant, they get bigger, and I will require more attention be paid to them, as they are a bit sensitive.”

“I can do that,” he said. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” she said, “Happy Anniversary.”

“Happy Anniversary,” he said as he continued his ministrations.

“Oh look,” she managed. “You landed on one of my properties. You owe me.”

“What do I owe you?” he asked, lifting his head with a smile on his face, as neither one of them had touched the dice.

“I want your boxers,” she said.

He leaned close and whispered, “No, you don’t; you want what is inside of them.”

“You know me too well,” she said, cupping his firmness and watching him grow.

“What Bex wants, my Bex gets,” he said as he reached for the belt on his trousers.